


Science Swear

by Wawa_Girl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Dork, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is a Dork, Dorks in Love, Drunk Character, Drunkenness, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Night Vale Opera, Post 70B - Review, References to the Novel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, cuteness, post desert otherworld, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cecil..." Carlos drew out, with no better words to follow. He truly wanted to believe Cecil. It was rare that the humble host ever went back on his word, but the scientist remained skeptical.</p><p>"I promise."</p><p>"Ceec..."</p><p>"Okay, fine. I science swear."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Science Swear

"So where did you get this tie?"

Cecil straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin as Carlos fixed his bow tie for him. It was a white tie with purple polka dots, tiny kitten faces, and eyes that told the stories of immortal beings who had experienced over one thousand years of memories and loss. It was cute, Carlos had concluded.

"I purchased it a few years ago at this adorable little flea market run by actual fleas. They were very nice, and sold it to me for a bargain of only one painful branding," Cecil answered as Carlos finished adjusting the accessory. "Thanks," he told his boyfriend, looking down at his attire, not allowing himself the luxury of looking in a mirror. "Do you think I look silly?" he asked a bit self-consciously, stepping back and spinning around slowly to let his entire outfit for the evening be seen.

Carlos cracked a smile at the question and didn't hesitate to hold Cecil still and kiss his forehead. "You look _sharp_ ," he answered honestly.

" _Carlooooos_ ..." Cecil blushed embarrassed.

"Oh, _that_ embarrasses you so easily, does it?" Carlos said playfully. "Try hearing that type of stuff said about you on live radio," he joked. Cecil didn't have a reply. Only the sheepish, apologetic expression he usually gave whenever the subject came up.

Cecil did, by most standards (though such things were always changing in Night Vale), appear "sharp." He was wearing a clean black and white tuxedo and his favorite violet furry pants to complete the ensemble. He had asked Carlos earlier if he thought the pants looked well with the suit, and although they didn't _quite_ match, Carlos told a white lie saying they were a perfect combination. He just couldn't help but love looking at the same pants Cecil wore on their first date. It always brought his mind to fond places.

"I'm just happy you're coming tonight," Cecil changed the subject. "It's going to be so much fun," he said sincerely, eyeing his boyfriend's almost identical navy blue and white tuxedo and fancy tuxedo lab coat. Talk about _sharp_.

It was opera night. And most special for the couple, it was the first opera Carlos would be attending in Night Vale.

Cecil hoped it could become a regular date night activity for the two of them, as operas were becoming increasingly popular in town. Carlos was excited, too, highly curious as to how operas were conducted in the strange town he was finally ready to call his home.

"I'm glad, too," he told Cecil, dusting off his coat and turning back around to face his charming date. "After your review of opening night, I have to see this type of show for myself. Not to mention how scientifically fascinating it all sounds," Carlos added, as he felt required to add to almost everything he said.

"I don't believe it'll be the same show tonight. And it may be less exciting without the theater going up in flames produced from a conspiring five-headed dragon. But then again, I don't know very much about opera, so that very well may happen again anyway. If not, at least we won't need to fear for our lives any more than usual," Cecil said. "I know my last opera review broadcast somewhat lost focus as to what attendees of future operas should expect..."

Carlos silenced him once again with a kiss, this time on the lips. "I _loved_ your broadcast about the opera," he said gently, and both of them knew Carlos wasn't just referring to the opera portion of that very special broadcast.

Cecil blushed again and smiled, and his tattoos glowed magenta under his sleeves. He was so happy to have Carlos back. "I know. And everyone there will be thrilled to see you," he said in an equally soft tone. "Especially Janice. She's been asking over and over when Uncle Carlos was finally going to come to the opera," Cecil said, causing Carlos' face to simply melt (not literally, which was in his favor). Somewhere along the way, Janice had become his niece, as well, and it was near impossible for the scientist _not_ to melt whenever he saw or heard about the sweet, young girl.

"Oh, and given that the inside of the building is less likely to go up in flames this time around, the after party can be held inside the dining hall rather than that impossibly large limousine," Cecil suddenly remembered. "It should be lovely." He took a quick glance at his wrist watch and began heading for the door. "We should get going before we're late. Don't forget to lock up the fridge so the faceless old woman can't get into our food, or your experiments, while we're out."

"Uh, hold on a sec there, Ceec," Carlos said, pulling his boyfriend's arm back to him and spinning him around on his wooden cowboy shoes. Oh, Cecil and his ever so genius fashion choices. "Speaking of the after party, I think there's something we need to quickly discuss first."

"What's that?" Cecil asked confused and looked at his treasured watch again, hoping that Carlos meant it when he said "quickly" discuss. He really didn't want them to lose their great seats in the _very_ back row. "If it's about Josie serving your chicken recipe at the party, you can ask her yourself, _if_ we get there early. Though I recall her saying something to me about the Erikas being unable to find 'real chickens'..." Cecil placed air quotes around the words as he spoke hurriedly.

"Not that," Carlos cut him off. "About you." Cecil still didn't appear to understand. "At the after party. Possibly overdoing it. And how maybe you shouldn't do that tonight," Carlos hinted slowly.

"Overdoing it?" Cecil asked genuinely confused. "Overdoing what? Oh, fine. I won't take my microphone into the restrooms if it bothers you so much, though that is just proper etiquette, Carlos."

"No," Carlos had to stop him again, though he did wish Cecil wouldn't do that either. "I meant drinking," Carlos finally decided to make himself clear.

Cecil looked in surprise and mild offense, genuinely baffled as to why Carlos would feel the need to remind him not to over drink. "When have I ever overdone it drinking in public?" he challenged Carlos.

"The Christmas party almost two years ago, we had just started dating, when you got drunk on vodka awakenings and sang the Night Vale town anthem with Steve Carlsberg," Carlos reminded him with a smirk, causing Cecil's face to instantly harden.

"We do not ever speak of that again," Cecil said firmly as though it were a life or death matter. How dare Carlos even acknowledge one of his lowest moments.

Carlos chuckled at Cecil's expected reaction and shook his head. "It's okay, I thought it was cute and funny," he reassured the man he loved. And if he recalled correctly, Abby and Janice had found the whole spectacle highly amusing, as well. He still wanted a copy of that video those two made.

"It was not funny, it was a disgrace!" Cecil stated sternly, before wiping his forehead and composing himself. "Besides, that was different. I always cut lose around the holidays. It's not something I would do at the opera house. I wouldn't ruin Josie's night like that," Cecil explained calmly and dignified.

"It's okay," Carlos repeated. "I wasn't trying to assume or accuse you of anything. And you wouldn't be ruining the night. I just thought I'd remind you that, unlike at Christmas, you'll need to be up and at the radio station early tomorrow to write your review of the opera for your broadcast, and scientifically speaking, I'm pretty sure you're going to want to _remember_ the opera the next day in order for that to be possible. So maybe tone down the number of drinks you allow to enter your system tonight," he said nicely, rubbing Cecil's arm up and down.

"I get it," Cecil defended himself again. "But that was years ago. I rarely drink publicly anymore. Believe me, dear Carlos, when I say that every time I was drinking while you were away I was alone, and it was not for happy reasons," Cecil said pointedly. Carlos winced in guilt, to which Cecil smiled to indicate that it was alright and all in the past now, making Carlos feel comfortable enough to return to the topic at hand.

"Okay," he said, trying to take Cecil's word for it. "I just know that you want tonight to be a classy, relaxing night, and for us to return home at a reasonable time like responsible adults, and I'm pretty sure that I cannot carry you home in this lab coat," Carlos joked, shaking the sides of his coat with his hands, hoping Cecil wouldn't feel it necessary to remind him that time wasn't real, and how what it means to be "responsible' and "an adult" is all subjective. Carlos knew these things. He was a scientist, for Newton's sake!

"My sweet Carlos," Cecil began. "I am pretty sure that you couldn't carry me at all," he joked back with a wink, walking passed him towards the door, thinking the discussion over, while Carlos huffed indignantly at the patronizing quip about his lack of physical strength.

"Cecil!" Carlos followed behind, not yet finished with the radio host.

"What?" he asked innocently, still not facing his overly-concerned boyfriend. "I mean it. I won't overdo it drinking tonight," he said meaning every word, but Carlos still needed to be sure.

"Science swear!" Carlos stopped moving and insisted, using their in joke to see if Cecil meant his solemn vow.

"I'm not a scientist," Cecil simply said over his shoulder, hand moving towards the door knob.

"Oh, so _now _you don't want to consider yourself a scientist?" Carlos quipped back, smiling despite himself at Cecil's sneaky attempt to get out of this pre-date agreement.__

____

__

Cecil was ready to keep up the silliness and reply "nope," but he could tell that this was important to Carlos, and knew that he shouldn't merely brush off his caring boyfriend's concerns. Nor did he want to be constantly reminded like a child not to drink too much on the entire drive to the opera house.

Plus, Carlos did have a fair point. Cecil had no desire to make a fool of himself on a night where the due attention should be on Josie, her _non-angelic_ friends, and the opera performers. Brilliantly intelligent Carlos was only being sensible.

Cecil sighed and turned around to face Carlos once more, placing on a look of pure sincerity. "Carlos, I vow as a community radio host, to you and to myself, and to any other omnipresent beings that may be listening, I will _not_ intake too much alcohol at the opera's after party tonight," Cecil stated confidently. "In fact, I won't have any drinks at all," he decided on the spot. "I mean, nothing alcoholic, that is. Perhaps one or two screaming lemonades."

"Well, you don't have to go _that_ far," Carlos said, not wanting for feel like he was unfairly policing Cecil's ability to have any fun. The citizens of this town received enough of that from their government on a daily basis.

"No, no, it's a good thing," Cecil insisted. "Someone needs to be on alert for any possible fire-breathing dragons on the loose and out to attack. It might as well be me. Hiram McDaniels may be currently detained, but that does not mean there are no others lurking about for a night of opera madness. And I'll drive us home," he added, glancing at his watch a final time, but not looking any less sincere. "There. Does that make you feel any better?" he asked his boyfriend, who was looking both amused and still slightly uncertain.

"Cecil..." Carlos drew out, with no better words to follow. He truly wanted to believe Cecil. It was rare that the humble host ever went back on his word, but the scientist remained skeptical.

"I promise."

"Ceec..."

"Okay, fine. I science swear."

 

**********

 

The dining hall of the new Old Night Vale Opera House was grand, elegant, brightly lit, filled with over half of the town's living residents, and decorated with several deep, vast, empty holes in the floors.

Multitudes of citizens, from secret police officers, to Seans, to scientists, and even hooded figures, were gathered throughout the hall for the after party, after the opera itself had gone down with only a few scorch marks on the theater seats and walls this time. It wasn't as large a turn out for the show as on the opera house's opening night, but it _was_ a much larger turn out for the after party given the greater amount of space in the hall than in the limousine.

After Josie had made a toast to another successful night, and everyone had finished screaming at the ceiling in terror, the hall became a loud, busy mess of people mingling, chattering, and huddling fearfully in corners. Overall a charming evening in Night Vale.

"I loved it. The music, the sets, the fruit stains on the stage. The themes about the changing roles of language, its origins, its varying scents...I mean, I know it's only the third show, but it all appears very promising. You should be proud."

Josie smiled and waved her hand away in modesty, but there was clear pride in her aging face. "Thank you. I wasn't the writer or director of this performance, but I can assure that very much work went into the rehearsals and production."

"No, of course, absolutely, _all_ of the performers should be commended for their work. And if they hadn't taken off immediately at the end of the show I would have complimented them myself. Oh, and it was just so inspiring to see that class of underprivileged spiders take the stage. Highly touching. Who knew they could put together such an incredible choir and dance team? Though I have to ask, when they began eating part of the curtain near the end of the routine, now was that planned or improvised?"

Before Josie could answer, the man speaking felt a light tap on his shoulder, and turned around to be greeted by a familiar face.

"Dana! Hi! It's wonderful to see you. You look lovely tonight," he complimented genuinely.

"Thanks. It's great to see you, too," the young mayor replied sweetly. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she looked between the two apologetically, "but I thought it important to direct your attention to, um..." she awkwardly pointed to a nearby table behind them, and Josie and the man twisted around to see what Dana was referring to.

It didn't take long for the two to figure out what they were looking at, as their eyes came into clear vision of a specific guest surrounded by several tall, winged, multi-eyed beings. He appeared to be doing quite a lot of laughing, singing, and off-balanced, out-of-date dancing. Upon seeing the others staring at him, he waved enthusiastically and called out the other man's name.

"Uh-oh," he simply said to himself, before tearing his eyes away and turning back to Josie and Dana. "Thank you, Dana. I appreciate you letting me know. Excuse me, Josie, I apologize for ducking out early, but I believe it's time for us to make our exit and head home," he told the chairwoman of the opera house politely.

"No problem," the older woman said with a smirk, not taking her eyes off of the special guest who would be leaving soon.

 

**********

 

"I think I can, I think I can't...and...and the cannibals sing...sang tra-la-la-la-la-la-la...something something...laaa!"

"Shh! Carlos, we're almost inside," Cecil tried to silence the loopy, singing man in his arms while fiddling with the lock on their apartment door, hearing a low growling from within the walls of a neighboring apartment. He hurried his actions. Aside from Station Management, their upstairs landlord was one of the last people Cecil wanted to upset.

He whispered an improvised limerick into the keyhole and the door swung open, allowing Cecil to finally carry the giggling scientist balanced between his arms over the threshold and into their living room.

"Oh my god, Cecil, the opera was AMAZING! It was so FUN! Wasn't that _fun_?!" Carlos bellowed out, wrapping his arms around Cecil's neck as the man holding him tried to kick the door closed behind them. The door was not happy.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Cecil said somewhat sarcastically, still trying to balance his boyfriend's weight with little help from the other man. "I can tell."

"Why did you want to leave so fast? Why didn't you come over to dance when I called you? We were gonna dance! I wanted to show you off!" Carlos dangled his head limply over Cecil's arm and started to slip.

"Whoa!" Cecil cried, halting his steps and adjusting the scientist's weight again. "Jeez, Carlos, you were a lot easier to lift and carry out of that condo than you are now," Cecil said mostly to himself, ignoring Carlos' questions.

"Heh heh! Cecil! Nahaha! Ce-cil! That tickles!" Carlos laughed, squirming and kicking his legs as though attempting to get free.

"Sorry," Cecil grunted, trying to re-position his hand so that it was no longer squeezing underneath Carlos' knee, moving the two of them closer to the couch.

"Just put me down," Carlos laughed in between hiccups. "The ground is fiiiiine," he said, trying to touch their floor, his fingers missing by two millimeters.

Cecil hesitated for a moment before complying, slowly lowering his arms, foolishly trusting Carlos to stand on his own two feet before reaching the couch.

Quite foolishly.

"Whoops!"

"Carlos!"

Cecil cringed as Carlos hit the floor and clumsily grasped for the cushions to help haul himself to the sofa. "I'm fine!" he told his worried boyfriend once he was lying crookedly yet comfortably. "A scientist is always fine!" he proclaimed with a burp. "Sorry."

Cecil sighed and slipped off his cowboy shoes underneath their looming coat rack. "Well, you were right," he said to Carlos, knowing the other man was hardly paying attention in his current state. "There is no way I could've carried you all that way if I had been wearing your lab coat."

"Duh!" the somewhat nasally-voiced man, whose voice was sounding much more child-like and slurred in the last few hours, replied while staring up at the ceiling, finding it especially interesting for some reason. "We should have...floating...dogs. Why are there no floating dogs on our...up...up there?" Carlos asked, trying to make his finger point in the direction of "up," and only halfway succeeding.

It wasn't the first time Cecil had seen Carlos drunk. Far from it. There were, in fact, many times throughout their relationship where the two had spent a romantic evening inside and had a few glasses of wine with their dinner, causing them both to become a bit tipsy and light-headed.

There were some nights, early into their relationship, when Carlos still had his old apartment above his lab, before they learned to always buy their wine from _inside_ the Ralph's and never from the ghosts of former cashiers _out back_ of the Ralph's, that their drinking led to some unexpected side effects, such as telepathy, transparency, and a constant cold feeling throughout their bodies. But such instances were few and far between.

To Cecil, a slightly drunk Carlos was nothing new. He was typically relaxed, highly contemplative about what it means to be a scientist in a land where science doesn't mean what he always believed it to mean, and required multiple trips to the bathroom. It always took place in their own privacy, often snuggled on the couch or in bed with an equally tipsy Cecil, waxing poetic about the meaning or likelihood of existence in such an uncertain world.

It was just Cecil's first time seeing... _this_ type of drunk Carlos.

"Hi, Galileo! Hi, Darwin! Hi, Einstein, he's a good boy!" Carlos waved at the floating puppies on the ceiling he had just assigned names to, and who weren't really there.

This silly, loud singing, lack-of-any-coordination, needy drunk Carlos that Cecil was forced to carry out of the opera house with most everyone there watching, and forced to listen to giggle and babble the entire drive home and journey upstairs.

Carlos gasped and shot up from his horizontal position on the couch, interrupting his invisible dog-naming. "Cecil! I just remembered! We need to go...to King City!" Carlos said with the utmost urgency in his tone.

Cecil raised an eyebrow and watched in amusement while giving his arms a rest. He had to admit that Carlos was cute while more than mildly intoxicated. "What?" he asked with a laugh in his voice.

"KING CI-TY!" Carlos shouted and enunciated as though Cecil hadn't understood him the first time. "It's a town and it's in trouble! Weird things are happening there! We have to help the people there; it's our duty! Come on, it'll be an adventure, Cecil! A scientific adventure!" He waved his arms about in wild gestures, stopping when he became dizzy and had to re-balance himself sitting on the sofa. "I was talking to," he tried elaborating. "Jackie and...umm...Di...ummm...Di..." Carlos snapped his fingers, trying to think of the other woman's name, frustrated with himself for not remembering it.

"Diane?" Cecil tried to help his struggling boyfriend, now fully smiling as he stood a few feet away from the confused scientist.

"No," Carlos brushed the suggestion off, shaking his head seriously, remaining in deep thought.

Cecil rolled his eyes with a smile at the confused man. "Yeah, well, don't worry, I think that Jackie and Diane already took care of everything in King City," Cecil tried to ease his fears. "You even helped them after they returned to Night Vale. Remember? The plan with the flamingos?"

"No," Carlos shook his head again, mimicking the same response, now looking up at Cecil curiously.

Cecil pushed away his own concerns, finding it most probable that Carlos' memory loss was temporary and caused by whatever he over-drank, walking towards the couch to proceed bringing him to their bedroom to rest. "And that is as good a sign as any that you need to go to sleep for the night," Cecil said as he gently took Carlos' arms and lifted him back up, this time not taking a hand off of him for even a second until he was safely settled.

"No!" Carlos verbally protested like a child, but made no physical protest to Cecil lifting him up, rather leaning into his boyfriend affectionately. "The night is young! I think..." he tried to squint at the face of the watch on Cecil's wrist. "If we aren't going to King City," _hiccup_ "then we need to go on a different scientific adventure! Back to the opera! Or maybe bowling. OH!" Carlos appeared to have just fancied up the best idea he ever had. "The MOON!"

"Ugh, alright, upsie-daisy," Cecil grunted again, trying to loop his arm under Carlos' to keep him steady. "The moon?" he asked distracted.

"You have ALWAYS wanted to go to the moon, Cecil! Or...I have. Or...Khoshekh has. Somebody we know and love has always wanted to go to the moon, and by golly by science, we're going to get them there! Even if it's me! Whoa!" Carlos cried as Cecil began carefully dragging him in the direction of their bedroom. "Oh, are we finally going to dance?!" Carlos asked excited, stumbling awkwardly behind Cecil as the other man pulled his arm.

"No, honey, we're getting you into bed," Cecil replied kindly but very tired.

Carlos snickered immaturely. "Cecil, is that all that you think about?" he snickered again, though now much more compliant with his arm being pulled. Cecil rolled his eyes and continued listening to Carlos' ramblings about going to the moon that even a lifelong citizen of Night Vale would find weird.

 

**********

 

Luckily, Cecil simply telling Carlos "the moon can wait" seemed to be enough persuasion for the drunk scientist to temporarily drop any talk of such an ambition, as he was plopped down onto their bed, arms and legs splayed out over their one trillion thread count, spider wolf skin comforter, giggling and cackling and talking again about the wonders of Night Vale opera.

"And Lee Marvin was there! Like, up there on stage! In the flesh! The _real_ deal! Lee Marvin is alive?! How is that possible?! Did you know that Lee Marvin was alive, Cecil?!" Carlos asked in awe, his head hanging over the foot of the bed, his dark hair in his eyes, defying all laws of gravity.

"Yes," Cecil answered calmly, removing his bow tie that had gotten him many compliments and horrified stares that evening, smiling to himself consistently, finally able to be entertained by his boyfriend's drunk antics now that he was no longer driving them through invisible traffic, carrying him up three and a half flights of dangerous steps, or apologizing to their sheriff's secret police officer about Carlos throwing up on his uniform.

"Lee Marvin's alive, spiders are singing, and people at the party were talking about a dragon with five heads?! Five heads?! Like whaaa?! This town makes no sense! I love it!" Carlos declared dramatically, falling backwards onto the bed giggling while Cecil changed into his old Night Vale Community College t-shirt and looser furry pants for bed, taking a red flannel shirt and lab coat-style night robe out of the dresser to help Carlos change into.

When Cecil turned around to place them on the comforter, Carlos was kneeling at the bottom of the bed and grabbed the front of Cecil's shirt, eyes wide and serious. "Cecil! We _have_ to go back to the opera again! We HAVE TO!" Carlos emphasized as though the fate of the universe depended on it. Cecil simply stared in both surprise and amusement. 'Wow, he _really_ enjoyed that show', the radio host thought to himself.

"We--we will, Carlos," Cecil said slowly, placing a hand on Carlos' shoulder to calm him. "Given that Josie is our friend and she owns the opera house, I'm pretty sure that wasn't our last visit," Cecil explained the obvious.

"PROMISE ME!" the esteemed scientist nearly yelled, unaware of his own volume.

"I promise, Carlos," Cecil said back, slightly impatient.

"No, I mean promise with your _voice_ ," Carlos specified, and Cecil didn't bother asking how Carlos thought he was promising the first time.

"Carlos. I promise," Cecil started saying clearly. "I swear that--no, I swear to science--I science swear," Cecil finally said, "that the two of us will go to the opera again."

Carlos finally seemed satisfied by that, smiling like a grade-schooler and falling back down on the bed with a sigh. "Awesome!" He squinted over at the miniature-sized house hippos making their nests in the corner. "I missed this bedroom," Carlos sighed again dreamily, and Cecil was unsure whether Carlos meant that he missed their room while they were at the opera, or during his time in the desert otherworld. "I missed this whole crazy town," he then said, answering Cecil's question.

"And it missed you," Cecil said sweetly, helping Carlos sit up and twist out of his fancy, slightly stained lab coat and unbutton his tuxedo, but Carlos stopped him and pouted, not caring for being treated like a baby. "I can do it!" he insisted, attempting to unbutton the rest himself. "I'm a scientist!" he grumbled, frustratingly trying to _find_ the pesky, final button.

"Okay," Cecil backed off and placed the pajamas down. "I'll be right in here," Cecil let him know, heading into their bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself after a large number of screaming lemonades, extremely happy now that he had courteously refused any champagne he was offered throughout the evening.

From the bathroom, Cecil could hear singing again, though this time muffled, most likely from clothes covering the singer's head. Either that or throat spiders were creeping up in the singer's esophagus again.

"Oh, test tubes and beakers and lab coats that sparkle. Lights above Arby's that are beautiful and scientific. Listening to the most beautiful, glorious voice on the radio...umm...something else that rhymes with radio...these are a few of my favorite things!" Carlos sang off-key and out of tune, continuing to make up his own rounds of flattering lyrics as Cecil exited the bathroom.

"Aww, Carlos, that's...sweet," Cecil said, finding Carlos with the left sleeve of the lab coat night gown stuck over his head. "Although I have no idea what tune you're singing," Cecil admitted, having never heard the classic song before. "Here, let me help you with that."

"It's true," Carlos said as he relaxed and allowed Cecil to help him dress. "I love you. I really, _really_ love you, Cecil," he said this important information to his boyfriend with that urgent tone again. "A LOT. I always wonder how I got so lucky to have you, what I did to deserve you." Cecil didn't interrupt, making sure Carlos was snug in his night wear, somewhat surprised by this strong bout of honesty. He of course knew that Carlos loved him, but was less used to him being _this_ open.

"You're _haaandsome_ ," Carlos drew out with a giggle. "And sweet, and kind-hearted, and have the most _gorgeous_ voice in the whole scientific world," he went on, falling back once again after Cecil finished. The radio host decided it easier to let the drunk man stay in his dress pants. "You take good care of me, you take me to _opera_ ," Carlos emphasized, as though this was the virtue that sealed the deal in proving Cecil's amazing-ness.

Cecil stared down at the man lovingly, learning then and there that drunk Carlos was much better at communicating his feelings than sober Carlos. It was nice, but sober Carlos was still better. Drunk Carlos was somehow even more easily distracted than his usual self.

"That is all _so_ sweet, Carlos. I love you, too," he reciprocated the feelings honestly. "And am very lucky to have you, as well. Well, most of the time," he joked, walking over to their bloodstone circle to kneel down and say a prayer for his loved ones, for his town, and for Carlos, hoping whatever elder deities may or may not be listening could hear him over the sound of Carlos belching out various scientific formulas.

When Cecil completed his bloodstone prayer ritual, he walked over to the left side of the bed and pulled down the covers for Carlos to climb under.

"Whoo!" Carlos exclaimed with a laugh as Cecil rolled him under and helped make him comfortable.

"It's time for you to go to sleep, Carlos," Cecil said gently, petting his hair and tucking him in affectionately.

"Time isn't real," Carlos mumbled the most normal thing Cecil had heard out of his boyfriend's mouth in hours.

"Just go to sleep, Carlos," Cecil changed his wording. "Sleep it off," he whispered.

"I mean it, though, Cecil," Carlos said more coherently, lifting his head and looking straight into Cecil's bright, tired eyes. "I'm going to take us to the moon someday," he said, asserting this goal firmly. "I promise it. I science swear it."

Cecil smiled, still petting his perfect hair. "Okay, Carlos. We'll go to the moon someday. That would be neat," he told him.

"Yes, it will be _neat_ ," Carlos agreed, settling more into his pillow. "You have always wanted to know what the moon is made of. What it's thinking. We'll go there and then we can find out. Then you'll know. We can see all of our lost pets up there," Carlos continued to detail this dream vacation he had promised as he drifted off. "I wonder if my old childhood puppy is up there..."

"Carlos, honey--"

"And we can look at all the stars. It'll be so scientific. _And romantic_ ," he added, drunkenly trying to find Cecil's hand to hold it, eventually grasping his fingers after three swings. "And beautiful."

"Thank you, Carlos," Cecil said sweetly, genuinely touched by Carlos' determined offer, agreeing that it did sound like an absolutely wonderful and romantic trip, if it were ever possible. "I'll take us to the opera, and you take us to the moon," Cecil said, playing along and tapping Carlos on the nose.

"Right," Carlos replied in agreement, eyes drifting shut. "Or, I mean, we could just go to Desert Bluffs--"

"The moon is fine," Cecil firmly cut him off there. "Now go to sleep while it's still night time," Cecil returned to his soft and soothing voice. "Sleep well."

"G'night, Cecil," Carlos mumbled, cuddling further into the sheets.

Cecil kissed his forehead and listened to the peaceful sound of Carlos' even breathing. "Goodnight, Carlos. Goodnight," he whispered in his boyfriend's ear using his professional radio voice, creating the illusion of the end of a community news radio broadcast.

At the sound of Carlos' soft snoring confirming that he was truly out, Cecil took a few hasty steps towards the closet and risked throwing the door open. He boldly reached inside, felt around for the bucket he was looking for, yanked it out, and slammed the door shut, breathing heavily. Lucky for the brave man, Carlos could sleep through anything.

Cecil placed the bucket by the bed on Carlos' side, darkened the room, whispered a few "good night's" to whoever else may have been hiding in their room, and closed the door.

After breathing a sigh of relief that Carlos was safe in bed, as safe as anyone can be in this crazy world, he sighed in exhaustion simply thinking about the multitude of tasks before him.

It had been a fun night, for reasons unexpected earlier that day, but while Carlos' silly, drunken behavior had been entertaining for Cecil and many other opera attendees that night, Cecil knew that he had much to do in preparation for Carlos' care in the morning.

Cecil decided he still needed to manually pound up coffee beans, see if they had any municipally-approved pain killers in the apartment, find some fresh, clean water, glue back together their broken drinking glasses, and whip up some decent breakfast from whatever was in their refrigerator and backyard. It wouldn't be as delicious as the breakfasts Carlos usually cooked for them, but he would need to eat something. Perhaps, Cecil thought, he could even sleep on their couch that night. Carlos would probably appreciate having the bed to himself, and probably would _not_ appreciate any noisy wake up calls.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was well after midnight. So much for going to bed early to wake up and go to the station early the next day. The things he does for his perfectly imperfect scientist.

Not that Carlos wasn't worth it. Carlos was _always_ worth it.

Cecil stepped into the empty, deathly quiet kitchen and sighed a third time at the realization that the faceless old woman _had_ broken the lock on their refrigerator while they were out. The tired radio broadcaster removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't be hard to gather those hateful thoughts for the coffee-making process now, he also realized.

Upon reaching their round, wooden table in the center of the kitchen, Cecil discovered a piece of paper with a note scribbled seemingly in blue crayon on it, and a tall glass with some kind of smelly, thick, black and white layered liquid filled to the top and bubbling. Cecil placed his lenses back on, picked up the note, and smiled as he read it.

_"Have the giggling bad singer drink this when he awakens. Don't ask what's in it, or I will be forced to eat the rest of your poisoned Popsicles.  
P.S. Please buy more poisoned Popsicles."_

 

**********

 

It wasn't the best morning for an outrageously loud sunrise.

"Uggghhh." A lump in the center of the Palmer/Scientist bed groaned and slowly began to emerge from under the covers, holding his head and eventually forcing himself into a sitting position.

Unfortunately, the sun did not care who or what was affected by the volume of its rises and sets.

"Goooood morning, sleepyhead," a very perky radio host said, entering the room just as the sunrise was quieting its screeching, noticing the other man finally awake.

The very perky radio host who was usually _not_ a morning person, and therefore usually not so perky this time of day. This did not do wonders for the scientist's mood.

"Ow, ow..." Carlos pressed his hand to his forehead at the sudden sound of Cecil's voice. "Oh, Cecil, I never thought I would say this, but please don't speak," Carlos said, his words no longer slurred, but his voice extremely groggy. His eyes were exhausted and his perfect hair disheveled. Cecil took pity, smiled knowingly at Carlos' expected state, and gently sat down beside him on the foot of the bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, lowering his soothing voice and giving Carlos some space.

"Ugh...scientifically speaking?" he asked his boyfriend, lifting his head and starting to come back around to the world of the living and conscious. "Like a horde of aliens sucked all of my brains out with giant needles and syringes," he answered aggravated, still rubbing his head where it hurt, before a terrible fear overcame him. "Oh god," he looked up at Cecil slightly panicked. "That's not what really happened last night, is it?"

Cecil bit back a small laugh and shook his head. "No," he placed a gentle hand on Carlos' shoulder. "Your brilliant, scientific brain is still in place, sweetheart, if not a bit muddled," he added to his reassurance. "Do you remember anything from last night?" he asked, deciding it best to find out from Carlos himself if he would need the previous night's activities recalled for him.

Carlos took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, still a bit dizzy, and tried to think. He thought for awhile, frustrated at how much more difficult this was than it should be. Thinking is part of being a scientist.

Eventually at least one key word came to his jumbled mind. "Opera," he said out loud. "We went to the opera," he said, looking to Cecil for confirmation.

"Good," Cecil told him, feeling like he was quizzing a student or young intern in training. "Anything else?" he nudged.

"There were..." Carlos tried to decipher any memory of the night before from the strange dreams that invaded his mind while he was sleeping. Maybe they were the same. "There were singing, six-legged spiders..."

"Yes," Cecil told him. "That was part of the opera."

"And we saw most of the town, and our friends, and the ang--errr, Erikas," Carlos fortunately remembered to correct himself, shooting a look out their bedroom window to check for any secret police officers who may have caught his almost-error. "The Erikas were there. The after party! We were there," Carlos concluded.

"Bingo!" Cecil said with a laugh, resulting in Carlos grabbing his head in pain again. "Sorry," Cecil quickly apologized.

"Wait," Carlos said, his scientific mind finally beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His headache, sensitivity to any noise, the crushing feelings of inadequacy, his troubled memory. He looked over the bed to see a large bucket beside it, and glanced over at the bedside table to see a tall glass of mostly clean water and a bottle of what he assumed were most likely pain killers.

"Did we get drunk or something last night, Cecil?" he asked, thinking he now had everything figured out. If it wasn't that, then some very Night Valien thing had taken place that afterwards left one feeling very hung over.

Cecil smiled again. Not quite. "No, my dear Carlos, _we_ did not get drunk last night. _You_ got drunk last night," he corrected gently. "Correction: you didn't get drunk last night. You got very, _very_ drunk last night," Cecil felt the need to clarify.

Any shame or embarrassment Carlos may have been feeling at that new knowledge must have been pushed aside as he was concentrating on more memories resurfacing.

"Oh. I remember...I was at the snack bar, and the Erikas, they kept...handing me small glasses of a cold, clear, gargling liquid. When I asked them what was in it they just made an..." Carlos proceeded to make a low, buzzing, robotic sound from the back of his throat, and Cecil appeared amused at the imitation. "...sound. They made that noise and said nothing else every time I asked them the ingredients, so I eventually decided to take a small sip. Not a very scientific thing to do, I know, but it tasted _really_ good. So I kept accepting them. The rest of the night is all a blur," Carlos finished recounting everything he could remember. Cecil had not been present during Carlos' alcohol consumption, but that story sounded about right.

"Did I...completely ruin the opera?" he asked timidly with his hand to his forehead.

" _Yes_ ," Cecil answered the ridiculous question sarcastically with a smile. "You jumped onto the stage, yanked the curtain up, pushed the other performers off, and started singing _You're a Grand Old Flag_ until the entire audience vanished into a dark oblivion," Cecil finished the silly joke in the hopes of making Carlos laugh. Instead, Carlos took on a look of pure horror at Cecil's words, looking up at him with eyes as wide as a deer in a politician's suit.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Cecil quickly reassured him and ran a hand through his imperfect hair, as Carlos' eyes returned to normal and he breathed a sigh of relief. "No, no, I'm sorry, honey, I was kidding. No, as far as my knowledge goes, which I understand isn't always far, you didn't start drinking until _after_ the opera was over. Which would make it quite difficult for your drinking to influence, much less _ruin_ , the opera itself. Though I suppose not impossible, given how weird time is..."

"Good, good," Carlos cut off his boyfriend's philosophical pondering, still cradling his aching head, really wishing Cecil would keep his sentences short this morning. "That's good. And, ummm..." Carlos started, nervous to voice the main fear that had been nagging at his thoughts. "I--I've only ever had Night Vale wine, so whatever I drank, it won't--I mean, it's not...does it have any, umm--" Carlos struggled to explain his concerns, still tired and nauseated. 

"Oh, don't worry," Cecil began to answer, already knowing where his outsider boyfriend was going with this, having heard these concerns from Carlos many times before, whenever he tried a new food, beverage, or medicine native to Night Vale. "I checked with Josie as I was carrying you out, and she insisted that what you were served wouldn't result in any dangerous side effects. It's perfectly harmless for outsiders and lifelong Night Vale residents. The Erikas would never poison you. You may experience some strangely accurate prophetic dreams for the rest of the week, and will probably forget everything from your seventh birthday, but that's pretty normal stuff anyway. You're not to worry, sweetie," Cecil comforted, and Carlos only gave a few nods of understanding and gratitude. "I can't, however, tell you the same regarding any potential side effects from _this_ ," Cecil confessed as he reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a glass Carlos didn't remember seeing the first time he glanced over there. Not that his vision had been entirely trustworthy since he first opened his eyes that morning.

"What's that?" Carlos asked nervously, staring at the glass of suspicious liquid Cecil was trying to hand to him, looking more or less the same as it had the night before when Cecil found it in the kitchen. Only it was no longer bubbling. And much less thick. And the white layers had since turned pink. It really looked nothing like it had the night before.

"The faceless old woman left it for you last night. I think it's for your hangover. Here, it might make you feel better," Cecil said, anxiously trying to hand it to Carlos again.

Carlos looked at the mixture skeptically, but obliged Cecil in taking the glass. "What's it made of?" he asked before giving it a whiff. He was going to regret that for the rest of the day.

"Don't know. But I'm sure it's safe. She likes you," Cecil said cheerily. "She told me."

Carlos continued to look uncertain, staring at the black liquid at the top of the glass for several long moments. Ordinarily he would never consume any foreign Night Vale substance before first bringing it to his lab for testing, but that scientific rule seemed to have fallen down the bottomless pit as of last night, he thought frustrated with himself. Plus, with as lousy as he was feeling, he really was in no position to be questioning anything that had the potential to make him feel better, scientist or not.

And he didn't want the faceless old woman to take his refusal of her remedy as an insult and play her Billy Joel records loudly throughout their apartment for the rest of the day just to punish him. She could have quite a temper sometimes.

Carlos internally sighed, held his nose, and slowly took a small, tentative sip, instantly deploring the tiny bit he swallowed and quickly spit out the rest with a gag.

Cecil grimaced as he watched. "Taste...okay?" he asked with a nervous smile. He already knew that it was not okay.

"I'll just...save the rest...for later," Carlos said in between coughs and placed the non-poisonous poison back on the end table.

After a few minutes of silence with Carlos holding his head in both of his hands and looking very upset, Cecil became concerned. "What's wrong, honey?" Your head still?" he asked, rubbing his hand up and down his boyfriend's back soothingly.

"No," he sighed. "I mean, yes...but," Carlos hesitated and Cecil could tell his distress wasn't only physical.

The man sitting up in bed wearing the long, white night robe looked up with a guilty expression. "How much of an idiot did I act like last night?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

"Oh, Carlos," Cecil instantly jumped into comforting boyfriend mode. "You weren't an idiot. I could never see you as an idiot," he said with full and complete honesty. Silly and intoxicated or not, Cecil could never see his perfectly imperfect Carlos as anything but brilliant.

Carlos was not convinced. "Cecil, you're sweet, but I know myself well enough to scientifically conclude that if I feel this bad now, I must have made a pretty big idiot of myself the night before," Carlos humbly admitted.

Cecil smiled, knowing what Carlos meant, but still refused to describe his boyfriend's drunk persona using such demeaning and incorrect language. "Honey, you really weren't that bad. I mean, you were _different_. Pretty off balance. You really loved to sing. You were a lot more okay with being the center of attention than usual, much more affectionate in public than usual," Cecil recalled with a laugh. "And you did several rounds of some...macaroni dance with a chorus line of hooded figures?" This information pulled a large groan from Carlos' throat as his hands fell back into his head, their favorite place that morning.

"It was only the weird magic chemicals altering your brain, like you scientifically tried to explain to me before, you know that," Cecil reminded him and Carlos nodded, but Cecil's words unfortunately were not making the humiliated scientist feel much better. "I found your dancing rather adorable. Nobody had ever seen the hooded figures so lively before, and Janice thought you were really funny--"

" _Janice_ saw me like that?!" Carlos shot his head back up and asked horrified. The idea of Cecil's 11-year-old niece seeing her new uncle behave in such an...unscientific and idiotic manner was enough to make Carlos feel like an enormous jackass.

Cecil quickly shut his mouth after seeing Carlos' reaction to that news. "Umm...well, technically it was Steve who told me that much, so he could have been lying," Cecil tried to comfort him and gently shook his shoulder a little. It wasn't the whole truth. Cecil had seen Janice giggling at Carlos' drunken moves with his own eyes. And either way, Carlos knew that Steve wouldn't make that up. Steve was annoying, but he wasn't a pathological liar. At least everyone in town besides Cecil understood that.

"Great," Carlos mumbled full of self-loathing, but Cecil was having none of it.

"Carlos, it wasn't that big of a deal. Didn't you hear me? She thought you were funny. She doesn't love you any less. She still thinks you're the smartest scientist she's ever met. And her favorite." Carlos did smile a little at that. "So now she's seen two of her favorite uncles make drunk fools of themselves at parties. She gets to see her stepfather make an idiot of himself _every_ day. So I think it evens out fine for us." That made Carlos roll his eyes and crack a smile again, cheering him up more and more, deciding to let Cecil's unfair remark about Steve slide this time.

"Okay," Carlos said softly. "Still, I'm sorry I let that happen. Especially after I made you science swear not to drink too much..." Carlos said with a cringe at the memory, feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite. He owed Cecil about ten apology beakers full of coffee _at least_.

"That's okay, it's not like I made you swear the same thing back. Although, looking back, that may have been a mistake," Cecil joked, but Carlos' face fell.

"I embarrassed you," Carlos finally said quietly, getting to the root of his shame. Somehow the idea of embarrassing Cecil in front of his beloved town troubled Carlos more than any scientific failing ever could.

Cecil's warm smile never left his face as he lifted Carlos' chin to look him in the eye. "Carlos," he started seriously yet gently. "Your actions as an individual person do not represent or define _me_ as an individual person. Everyone knows that, and therefore anything you do on your own accord could never embarrass me," Cecil educated the love of his life sincerely, causing Carlos' smile to match his own. "Besides, even if you _had_ embarrassed me at all, with the number of times I've embarrassed you on the radio, I'd have deserved it," Cecil added with a wink.

"I didn't do it for that reason--"

"I know, I know," Cecil gently cut off Carlos' earnest attempt to defend himself.

"So..." Carlos began speaking again with a smile, now feeling much better mentally. Physically he still felt like he'd fallen asleep inside the lab with all of the windows closed. "I didn't ruin our date night too bad? Or anybody else's night?" he asked still with a twinge of guilt at his irresponsible behavior.

"No, why would it be ruined?" Cecil asked, baffled at the concept. "Sure, we left a bit earlier than I'd expected, and it _was_ somewhat of a challenge carrying you all the way upstairs and into bed, but when you get down to it, _I_ had a good time, _you_ had a good time, and isn't that all that matters?"

Carlos didn't remember how "good of a time" he must have had, but chose to take Cecil's word for it. He was being extremely understanding, to which Carlos felt extremely grateful. "Good. I really promise not to let it happen again. I mean, if I'm even allowed back to the opera again," Carlos said with a small laugh, deciding to finally reach over and open the bottle of pain killers on the table.

"Why wouldn't you be allowed back to the opera?" Cecil asked, twirling his fingers through his boyfriend's curls as Carlos sipped some water to wash the taste of pencil shavings out of his mouth. He wouldn't be tasting anything good that morning, would he?

"To my knowledge, you didn't consume any wheat or wheat by-products, or dance your way into the forbidden Dog Park. If I and the radio station interns were never banned from any parties for our caffeine overdoses, I fail to see why you would be."

Carlos decided he shouldn't trust those pain killers, and sheepishly tried to answer Cecil. "Yeah, but you weren't...I mean, you aren't..." Carlos had trouble saying the word.

"Outsiders?" Cecil offered softly, sensing what Carlos was thinking. The source of many of his remaining insecurities living in Night Vale. Carlos nodded shyly.

"Carlos," Cecil took on a kind yet authoritative tone, and Carlos knew to pay attention. "Nobody in Night Vale thinks of you that way anymore," Cecil stated confidently. "And I hope that someday you can come to understand that. You won't be judged more harshly for what you do or what you think because you weren't born here. You don't have to be more careful, or more self-conscious of your actions, than the average citizen. I know we aren't always the most trusting of outsiders and interlopers, but you've been a resident of Night Vale for over three years now. Everybody loves you, Carlos. Everybody respects you. This is your home; this is your community. And sometimes, it's important to have fun and cut lose with your community. You aren't the first person here to drink and be merry at a party, and you certainly won't be the last. As the old saying goes: 'Drink and be merry, for tomorrow is but a dream in which we will all be consumed by darkness and eaten alive.' So don't be so hard on yourself," Cecil finished his speech in his beautiful radio voice, and Carlos almost spilled his water as he placed it down while staring adoringly at Cecil. How _did_ he get so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend, _and_ such a wonderful new town to call home?

"Thanks," he whispered, having no other decent response to all of that. He really had missed this town. "And thanks for taking such good care of me."

"Of course. You would have done it for me. In fact, you _have_ done it for me many times," Cecil said, remembering how good Carlos had been to him after that Christmas party that shall never be spoken of again, and any other times he had been sick or overworked or bitten by a special gift from Venom Box. "That's what you do in a loving relationship."

Carlos was always amazed at Cecil's wisdom about relationships, despite having confessed in the past that their relationship was his first serious one. There were certain things, such as his radio conduct, that were clear signs of that, but other things, such as his words and behavior in this moment and on these matters, made him feel like the perfect boyfriend. If perfection was in any way real, the scientist reminded himself.

"I know, but still, you shouldn't have had to--"

"Carlos, stop," Cecil cut him off and held up his palm, ready to set Carlos straight once and for all. Or, for the final time that morning. "I waited one whole year for you to possibly return my affections. And I waited almost another full year for you to return to me from that desert otherworld. If I have to care for you, drunk and silly and _less genius than usual_ for one night every once in a purple moon, I don't mind, as long as you're here," Cecil spoke from the heart. It was sappy and mushy and so very _Cecil_ , and Carlos was now smiling widely despite his lingering humiliation and his head feeling like it had been run over by street cleaners. Cecil remained the only person who could have that effect on him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Cecil kissed his forehead and exhaled disappointed. "Unfortunately, I do have to be getting to the station soon. We can talk more about last night later." As much as Cecil loved these long morning talks with Carlos, and hated to leave him while he was feeling ill, he couldn't get out of going to work the day after a major town event. He could rarely obtain a day off from work _any_ day.

"I understand," said Carlos, stretching out his arms and rubbing his eyes as Cecil got up.

"You should stay home from the lab and rest today. Most of your team was at the party last night and saw how you were...feeling," Cecil said politely. "So they'll all understand." Carlos face-palmed upon hearing that, and immediately let out an "ow" after the unintelligent action. The radio host had already gotten dressed in his work clothes long before Carlos had woken up, and began rummaging through the drawers in search of his favorite blood-stained tie, listing off anything Carlos might need to know while he wasn't home.

"You can call or text or shout my name into any hidden camera if you need me," he said, bustling about their cozy little bedroom. "Our showers should be working again, clean bloodstones are all lain out on the right side of the bed, and there's fresh coffee and breakfast in the kitchen that I can bring in to you if you want. It's unlikely to taste as scrumptious as the breakfasts you cook. I had to substitute imaginary corn for eggs to make an omelette, but hopefully you'll prefer it over eating nothing at all," Cecil explained hopefully, walking over to the beside table.

"Thanks _so_ much, Ceec," Carlos said with genuine, strong appreciation for Cecil's care. Although it was then confirmed that he would not be tasting anything good that morning. "Umm...could you...maybe...leave the, uh, the glass of...black and pink goo?" he asked, pointing to the glass Cecil was holding and about to take away.

"I thought it made you sick," Cecil said confused.

"It does, but, umm, I might, I mean, I thought later I could...uhh..."

Cecil gave him a sly look. "You want to run experiments on it, don't you?" he asked the scientist with a knowing smirk.

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the comforter. "Yes." Maybe that was the faceless old woman's plan to cure his hangover all along, he thought suddenly. Science.

Cecil rolled his eyes with a smile and placed the glass back down. "Sure. I'll call you during lunch?"

"Okay. I look forward to your broadcast," Carlos said, glancing happily up at the radio on their high shelf that always knew to turn on at the start of Cecil's show. Carlos knew that listening would help ease his headache, and possibly help jog his memory of the opera itself.

"And I'll try not to speak or play anything too loud," the host said before hearing his phone hissing where he left it on the dresser. He went to look at it and Carlos laid back down.

"Oh, text message from Josie. And she asked about you," Cecil said before reading. " _'Ask Carlos what he thought of the opera after everything stops spinning. And congratulate him on surviving his first opera in Night Vale. Hope he's feeling better. The Erikas hope so, too_ ' Aww, isn't that sweet? I told you everyone cared," Cecil said, aware that Josie didn't constitute "everyone" in town, but nevertheless, this helped his case.

"That is sweet," Carlos said from his comfortable position. "Tell Josie I said thanks and that--"

" _'Also, Cecil, please email me a copy of that recording--'_ " Cecil muttered the rest of the text to himself and quickly pocketed his phone upon realizing what it said. "So," he immediately tried to change the subject. "You like your coffee pitch black, right?" he asked awkwardly, and Carlos jolted back up.

" _What_ recording?" the man with imperfectly messy bed head asked, highly suspicious.

Cecil closed his eyes and sighed before explaining. He really hadn't wanted Carlos to know, but he also couldn't lie to him.

"Well...while you were, umm... _under the influence_ , you really wanted to dance, and honey, I would've loved to have danced with you if you were able to stand upright, and if I had been wearing softer shoes, and you were singing _Shut Up and Dance_ rather loudly throughout the hall as we left, and it was too charming a moment not to capture, and you know that I'm never without my microphone..."

"What?!" Carlos shrieked. "Cecil, _please_ delete it," he begged. The scientist didn't remotely care for his sober singing voice, if it could even be accurately _called_ a "singing voice." He couldn't imagine, and didn't _want_ to imagine, how horrifically stupid he must have sounded singing while drunk out of his mind.

"Oh, Carlos, don't worry, you sounded cute as always. Now let me pour your coffee and--"

"Cecil, _delete it_ ," Carlos demanded through gritted teeth, not wanting a single being with ears in all of Night Vale to ever hear that recording, ready to revoke Cecil's "nearly perfect boyfriend" title in an instant.

"Carlos, I'm not going to play it on the radio or any kind of violation like that. I promise not to even send it to Josie or anybody else, no matter what they threaten. It'll just be for me to keep," Cecil said, trying to convince his boyfriend to relax as he turned on his heel.

"Cecil," Carlos said sternly, these assurances not good enough for him. "Delete it."

A playful smile turned up Cecil's lips out of Carlos' view as he remembered something repeatedly promised the night before.

"Okay," Cecil said as he opened the bedroom door to leave the room and return with some now cold coffee and imaginary corn omelette for Carlos. "I'll make you a deal. I promise to delete the recording of your singing if you keep your promise from last night," Cecil said teasingly, but knew that Carlos was desperate enough in that moment to take it seriously.

"What promise?" Carlos' eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Cecil put on a mischievous grin and turned his head for Carlos to see before he exited.

"You made a science swear to take us to the moon someday."

**Author's Note:**

> Are science swears even valid if the one making the promise is drunk? Why did the Erikas want to get Carlos drunk in the first place? Why do all of my Night Vale oneshots have the word "science" in the title? Why do they all deal with Carlos facing embarrassment? Why are they always so ridiculously sappy? Why do I always tend to publish them around the winter holidays? Some things (these things) are not meant to be questioned.
> 
> Anyway, if you've made it all the way to the end, then thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I had been wanting to write a "Drunk Carlos fic" for a long time now, and it feels really good to publish something again. This may not have been much, but I really did work hard on it, so if you liked it, please let me know in the comments, and if you can, tell me what specifically you liked. Any (honest and respectful) comments are much appreciated!
> 
> Thanks again for paying attention to my silly stories, and happy holidays to all!~


End file.
